Saturday, December 22, 2007

Santa and the Drawer of Broken Dreams

He stares out his study window. Christmas is almost here. He sits at his father’s roll-top desk. The desk is smooth, and the front of it shows the wear of the constant use it has received over the years. Many toys have seen their birth here on this desk as sketches. The reason he is here today is not to remember old toys. He has other memories that he would rather forget, but knows he can’t. He pulls a small key ring out of the top drawer and places the smallest key in the bottom left drawer, and unlocks it. There are several articles here. His father’s pocket watch, his father gave it to him twenty-seven years ago. His father has long since passed. His wife’s wedding ring. She was killed in a freak reindeer accident four years ago. He hated to put Rudolph down, but the red nose was a warning sign of a mutant strain of cancer that drove him into the rage that killed his wife.
He slams the drawer closed. A tear glistens and slides down his cheek. He has to keep it together three more days. The kids need him.


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